Some Nights
by It'sFun2BCrazy
Summary: Oneshot. After a mission goes sour, Natasha isn't feeling very optimistic about her ledger. Tony helps change her mind. No Natasha/Tony. Slight Clintasha.


**Alright, you guys. First Avengers Fanfiction, and first serious writing I've done in a while, sooooo I'm really unsure about it. So, . . . reviews are love, I love love. Oh, gosh. Just read it. Please. Tony may get a little OOC, same goes for Natasha, but hey! She's drunk, give her a break.**

* * *

A good start would be to say that it was supposed to be a simple mission, get in, get out, kill some bad dudes. But it wasn't supposed to be a simple mission. If it was a simple mission, Fury would have sent normal S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives, or just Romanoff and Barton. A complicated, tough, risky mission, however, would prompt Fury to send the whole Avengers team. That was the reason the whole team was currently seated around a table in a horribly chiche fashion. The table was round, with an identical round groove cut out on the opposite side, providing Fury with just enough room to stand and poke at a screen. "A couple agents of ours disappeared about a month ago a couple miles from this location." Fury's booming voice pointed out. The screen in front of them showed a satellite image of a large forested region.

"After 24 hours and no word from them, we investigated. What we found was this." The image on the screen zoomed up to show a single building, hidden back in the forest a little ways. The building was low to the ground, and its camoflage roof combined with the thick forest around it made it nearly impossible to see.  
"It appears to be a building." Tony said in monotone, making his bordom known. As if it wasn't known already, Tony's feet were propped up on the table, and he was poking on his phone, as he always did during briefings.  
Fury shot him a one-eyed glare that was quickly redirected to Clint when his snicker turned out to be a bit louder than he had hoped "This is a briefing, gentleman. It's supposed to save your life, not entertain you. " Fury's voice was quickly morphing into Director Furys voice. "So I suggest you get your damn feet off the table and take this seriously." Clint shut up immediantly, but Tony just raises an eyebrow and keeps his feet where they are.  
Fury just sighs and continues with the briefing.  
"Advanced Ideas and Mechanics is what we're looking at. I'm sure you're familiar with them." Natasha internally winced, remembering their last encounter with A.I.M. "How did S.H.I.E.L.D. miss an A.I.M. base that big? I thought we wiped them out the last time." Cap speaks up from his position in the corner of the table.  
Fury pauses just for a second, long enough for Natasha to know that somebody (or multiple someodys) got fired over this.  
"The base is modeled after one of ours. An exact replica from what we can tell. Some idiot newbie didn't catch it because he thought it was one of ours." Yep, Natasha thinks. Right again.  
Tony seems to think this is funny, for some reason. "So you got your blueprints stolen, and allowed a base to be built right under your noses?"  
Fury moves toward Stark slowly and places his hands on the table in front of him. Tony just smiles cockily in his face.  
"Why criticize us for losing one set of blueprints to A.I.M., when as I recall it, you lost a whole shipment of weapons to them?"  
Stark's smile disapears so fast it isn't funny. Well, actually it's a little funny, Natasha thinks while holding back a smirk.  
The billionare stays quiet, but stubbornly keeps his feet propped up, displaying his ridiculously expensive shoes for all to see.  
Fury goes back to the briefing, going over their objectives and giving some pointers. He pulls up a copy of the blueprints, which makes A.I.M.'s blueprint stealing idea sound pretty stupid, Natasha thinks. I mean, why copy an enemy base that they still have the blueprints for? They might as well build an original base, then hand over the blueprints for it. Not that she's upset, though. Just makes it easlier to take them down.  
"Dismissed." Fury says.

Two hours later has Natasha sitting on a quinjet with the rest of the team, bored as hell. She looks around at her teammates, seeking entertainment of any kind. Steve is absentmindedly polishing his already spotless shield, Tony is STILL poking on the damn phone of his, (In the back of her mind, she wonders if he has Angry Birds on there.) and Banner has actually managed to fall asleep on one of the less comfortable looking chairs the room has to offer. Clint is reading some magazine that looks like it would be more fun to burn than read, and Thor's in the far corner flipping through some playing cards. Playing cards, . . .  
Natasha pushes herself up from her spot next to Clint and strolls over to the Asgardian. "Hey, Thor." She says, sitting on the chair across from him. His head raises, blond hair parting for his face to peak through.  
"Hello, Lady Natasha." He greets her. "Where'd you get the cards?" She asks, desperate for a game of poker, but not mean enough to snatch the cards out of her teammate's hands.  
"I discovered them lying abandoned on the quinjet when we boarded. I find them most odd. We have cards similar to these in Asgard, but the symbols are incorrect." He continues shuffling the deck, studying the symbols intently.  
"You want to learn how to play?" Natasha asks, only a little let down that there isn't any poker across the rainbow bridge. Teaching Thor had to be better than nothing, right?  
"If you are willing to teach, then I am willing to learn." Thor says earnestly, because Thor says everything earnestly.  
"Then let the games begin."

Turns out there is some form of poker across the rainbow bridge, because Thor picks up pretty quick once Natasha explains the symbols and main process to him. She still kicks his ass, but at least she had someone to play against.  
After losing for the fourth time in a row, Thor speaks up. "I believe it is time for me to teach you an Asgardian game of cards." A smile lights up his face, and Natasha can't let the big guy down. Besides, you never know when you'll need to know how to play an alien form of poker. "Of course, what do you have in mind?" "This particular game requires more players than two, I am afraid." He certainly doesn't look afraid about that.  
Natasha takes the hint and looks around the room at their fellow teammates, each still absorbed in various tasks.  
"Oh, we have plenty of players Thor, don't worry about that."

Half an hour later, Natasha is worried. Only because the cards are in danger of being ripped to shreds by a very frustrated Ironman.  
"So we're supposed to toss the card, like physically toss it, into the air, and then what?" Without waiting for a response, he continues.  
"This has got to be the stupidest game on the face of the Earth!" It takes his less than a split second to realize his mistake, and he then takes the opportunity to facepalm, sliding down in his chair.  
"Bad wording choice, . . . shit." He mutters just loud enough for them to hear.  
Thor doesn't laugh at Tony, (Even though Clint does) but he's been smiling the whole time as he attempted to teach the Avengers the game, which had a long name and an even longer set of rules. Natasha and Clint both caught on fast, and Bruce was surprisingly right behind them. Learned lots of strange card games in his travels, she supposed. Steve had absolutely no idea what was going on, but played nice anyway, asking Thor when he got too lost. Tony, though? The man had a fit every time he got confused. He once asked about a rule every round untill not only was Thor reminding him, but the whole team. He then took a hint and shut up. Natasha thinks he's just being difficult, what with that freakishly high IQ of his, he could probably understand faster than any of them if he wanted to. Thor patiently explains every rule every time, though. Natasha gets the impression he likes to be the one explaining customs for once.  
Just as Natasha thinks Tony is really going to rip a card to pieces, an agent sticks his head through the door and informs them they have reached their destination.  
"Whoohoo!" Tony reacts a little dramatically, standing up and throwing the cards up for them to rain down about their heads.

They do a little group huddle thing, going over the game plan and checking comm links.  
Then they set off.  
Black Widow and Hawkeye are sneaking into the compound, one on either side, planning to meet in the middle. Captain America and Thor are going in as soon as the assassins give him the go ahead, and Ironman's watching the skies, ready to go in at a moment's notice. Banner is in the woods, with a comm link. He isn't supposed to get involved, but you never know with A.I.M., so they're keeping him on standby.  
"Go." Clint's voice sounds in her ear and she sets off, looking for the weak window that S.H.I.E.L.D.'S blueprints say will be there. She finds it in minutes, and before you can blink, the Black Widow had disables the alarms and slipped through the window.  
"I'm in." She breathes through the comm. A few seconds later, Hawkeye says, "Me too." She smirks even though she knows he can't see it. "Beat you in, Hawkeye."  
She doesn't need to see him to know he's sticking out his tongue.  
The Black Widow sets off, gun familiar and comfortable in her hand, moving down the halls. The hallways of the compound are grey and dreary, but i'ts impossible for Natasha to be bored.  
Footsteps, voices. She flattens herself against the wall.  
"-deactivated or something." The first voice says. Male, she notes. "And I get sent to check it out! What am I, his errand boy?"  
Another, quieter voice says something sympathetic in return.  
Then they round the corner and neither of them gets a chance to say anything in return.  
Natasha slams her elbow into the first man's nose. He never saw it coming, and is unconscious on the ground before he even knows what happened. The second man stumbles backward, eyes wide, reaching for his gun, but his hand never makes it. Natasha's foot connects with his hand, and a split second later, his face. He falls backward into the wall, one more punch and he's down. "Just took two men out. " She whispers in the comm. "Probably some coming your way, Hawk."  
Steve comes on the line. "You want me and Thor in yet?"  
"Not yet." She says, and radio silence starts.  
A few more halls and short skirmishes later, Natasha is at the door to the control room, waiting for Clint to tell her he's doing the same on the other side.  
"Widow, you there?" He says softly. "Waiting for you." She smirks again. Natasha is in her element now, with Clint waiting for her and a gun in her hand. This is way better than poker.  
"Steve. Thor. Come join the party." Clint opens their line for them all to hear, and Natasha grins at his choice of words. Right now, Natasha saw the party.  
Five minutes later alarms are blaring and lights flashing as Steve and Thor make their less than sneaky entrance into the base. The control room doors aren't soundproof, she notes as she hears panicked half phrases and curses from inside. Seconds later, the doors burst open and Natasha copies her more from earlier, slamming her elbow into the first thing that comes through the door. It has the slightly comical effect of knocking down the man behing him as well. Had she had time, she would have laughed. No rest for the wicked, though, so Natasha sets to work taking down the remainder of the men.  
They already know they're here, so no mercy. She shoots rapid fire on the remainder of the men. Five are down, but these guys are persistent little buggers, so more are coming. Something wraps around her throut. She instinctively goes limp, but the grip remains firm, so she flips around, swinging her right leg around her captor's head. She grabs the arm around her head, keeping it in place as she twist. The Black Widow hears the crack and his cry of pain as his arm breaks, and stands up straight, letting his now limp body fall to the ground. Something flies past her face. Her eyes follow it in time to see the arrow embed in an A.I.M. agent's chest. The agent's gun was pointed limply in Natasha's direction as he fell.  
She would have thanked Hawkeye, but they've worked together too long for that. It's just an understood thing at this point.  
She ducks into the control room, and takes the battle scene in in a glance. Clint has made his way on top of some big piece of equitment, and is raining arrows down on scientist and A.I.M's secruity alike. Cap and Thor have joined the party. Cap was currently kicking the living crap out of a couple of scientists, Thor smacking security gaurds hard anough with Mjolnir that they fly across the room, taking more out with them as they go. She is about to run to Steve's aid, seeing as the A.I.M. agents were flocking to him, when she notices a scientist running. Not pulling out a gun, not hiding behind a security guy, just running.  
Towards what? Natasha thinks.  
She finds out a second later when he collapses against a wall, franticaly typing a code into a panel.  
The Black Widow sets off towards him, because he can't be up to any good.  
Another panel opens up, and Natasha runs faster. Inside the panel, which last nearly the whole length of the wall, are brand new Stark Industries weapons. Everything but pistols to missles, these guys seem to have it. The scientist runs up, lab coat fanning out behind him. He grabs a missle launcher of some type, and points it in Clint's general direction. Natasha slams into him right at that moment, getting a close up of his balding head as the shot fires, going wide. She slams the guys head into the floor once, hard, just to make sure he stays down. Then she immediantly looks for Clint.  
Smoke is pouring out of a gaping hole in the ceiling, rubble raining down around it, but the missle missed Clint completely.  
Steve looks in her direction, takes in the rows of Stark weaponry behind her, and shouts "Stark! Get in here!" Into his comm.  
There is a moment where the sounds of fighting die down ever so slightly for a moment as A.I.M. agents notice the weapons and take off towards the weapons, abandoning thier fights, heading for their waiting arsenal.  
Natasha grabs a random weapon from the wall, a gun of some type, and points it at the onslaught of agents running her way. She fires at random, they are so close together, that there's really no need to aim. So she doesn't. Taking down agents one by one, but the crowd isn't seeming to get any thinner. Thor touches down next to her, swinging his hammer, ready to protect Natasha and the weapons. Clint is still picking off agents, and has jumped down from his perch, running towards the wall of weapons. Steve is doing the same.  
The closest agent is about 15 feet away.  
"Stark, where the hell are you?!" She screams into her comm as she fires again.  
The flash of blue light taking out the closest line of agents is her answer.  
"'Bout time." She mutters, relieved.  
"I do my best." He answers, but his tone is tense. She doesn't need to be told why.  
He shoots off his shoulder missles, taking down another row of A.I.M. agents. Thor jumps in front of Widow suddenly, swinging his hammer. It deflects an energy blast from a Stark Industries weapon, which is cradled in an A.I.M. agents arms. "Shit." She mutters in sync with Tony.  
She had been trying not to kill too many of them, aiming for leg or arm shots. But she knows in her profession, morality only goes so far. Natasha doesn't have much morality left anyway.  
Now? Every shot she fires is a kill shot.  
The rest of the battle slowly drains the "party" out of her. A flash of red white and blue. The whiz of an arrow past her head. The whine of a repulser. The flash of lightning. And always, ever present as a gruesome background music, the cries of fallen men and gunshots.  
She's not entirely sure when the last of the men falls, she just knows that she whirls around, only to find her gun pointing at thin air.  
She looks around. Cap's shield is still in his hand, ready to protect him from the gunfire which has now gone silent. Hawkeye is out of arrows, but his hand is still latched tightly around his bow. Thor is coming to a landing, his hammer swinging slower and slower, with no one left to hit. Tony is standing straight, arms by his side, in that pose he always adopts right after a battle.  
Around them, blood coats the floor, bodies still lying where they died.  
Natasha has seen it enough to recognize it for what it is. A bloodbath. A slaughter. This wasn't supposed to happen.  
She has no idea how long they stand there like that. But she does know that when she hears Steve's voice say, "Lets go home." that she's never agreed more.

No one speaks on the too-long ride back home. Bruce understands, and doesn't ask questions. When they get back, she is debrieifed, forced to relive every moment, in front of a somber-faced agent that isn't Coulson.  
Nobody is hurt too bad, Clint has a shallow scratch on his arm where a bullet grazed him, and they all have some nasty bruises, but they run by medical once just in case.  
On their way out the door, Fury stops them.  
"Director Fury, sir." Steve says. Fury nods in response.  
"Good work today, agents. I know it didn't exactly go according to plan, but a threat is eliminated. You did the right thing." He stresses the last bit.  
They nod and Clint offers up a weak "Thanks.". Just as they are turning back around, they hear Fury speak one last time. "Don't let me see any of your faces at work tomorrow either." Natasha thinks Fury cares about them far more than he should. Not that she's complaining.

She fires at the man in front of her. He's wearing a lab coat, and is older man. He lacks most of his hair. The Stark Industries missle launcher in his hands is pointed directly at her. The bullet leaves her gun in slow motion, colliding with his head a second later. Blood sprays from the wound unrealistically. She dances out of the way of most of it, but a drop lands on her gun. The blood stands out sharply, bright red against black. Footsteps. She looks up in time too see more men heading towards her. She kills them all. She glances down at her gun, and the blood has spread. Nearly all of the gun in coated in the sticky red substance. Even as she watches, it spreads. She drops the gun suddenly as the progress of the blood unexpectedly speeds up, rocketing towards her hand. Shes too late. The blood spreads from her trigger finger up her hand, up her arm. Spiraling around her torso, creeping up her face. She lowers her face, falls to her knees, and watches the blood as it drips from her hair, it too, soaked with blood. The drop of blood falls in slow motion to the black floor below. Your ledger is coated, dripping with red.  
The drop hits the ground.  
And Natasha wakes up.  
She sits up in bed, taking a moment to catch her breath and remember where she is.  
She runs a hand through her hair, partly to make sure there's no blood in it. She kicks the covers off and swivels around, placing her feet on the ground. She wishes the ground was cold on her bare feet, instead of the soft carpet that she wiggles her toes in now. She wishes she was sitting on a cot somewhere with threadbare blankets covering her, not sitting ona king size bed with a down comforter. It was what she deserved. Curse Stark and his luxuries. She considers going to Clint's room next door, as she has so many times after a nightmare, but somehow, she doesn't feel like it tonight.  
So Natasha takes a shower, just to shake the feeling of blood off of her skin. When she's done, she stands there, naked, without the will to reach for the towel that laid in wait, draped across the sink. Natasha stares at herself in the mirror. Emotionless. That was how people had described her, time and time again. Was that how she really was? She didn't feel emotionless. She looks into her own eyes. Natasha knows better than anyone else that taking the light out of someone else's eyes doesn't add more to your own. She wishes there were light left in her eyes. She wishes the light could leave her eyes forever. She honestly doesn't know what she wishes anymore.  
She does know one thing though, that defect-Russsian-assasian-S.H.I.E.L.D.-spy, whatever she is, she is a woman underneath it all. And this woman needs something to drink. So she drys off and slips on some old sweats, and heads for the kitchen. A quick check of the fridge reveals a single bottle of beer.  
Natasha hates beer. Vodka, scotch, wine, rum even, she could do, but she absolutely refused to drink beer. So she heads down to Stark's lab, hoping that the man's personal selection offered up something better.  
She walks down the stairs, finding the silence odd. When she reaches the end of the hall, she sees the light coming from the direction of Tony's lab. She's not too surprised, seeing as he is a diagnosed insomniac. She doesn't particularly care either. Maybe he can offer up some suggestions as to what to drink.  
She marches up to the lab door and knocks. She feels stupid knocking, but Pepper hadn't given her access codes to the tower yet, and she didn't think Tony would appreciate her just shooting down the door.  
Tony looks up from where he is, leaning over something with a screwdriver, and says something that she can't hear to Jarvis. The door opens a second later, and she strolls in.  
"What brings you here this time of night?" Tony asks as she draws closer, never looking up from what he's doing.  
"I need a drink." She states blandly. He raises an eyebrow, but jerks his head toward a fridge in the corner. She walks over, and studies the selection. Grabbing a bottle of vodka, she shuts the door and makes her way back. "Little late for a drink, don't ya think?" Tony asks, still leaned over, . . . whatever he was working on.  
She smirks. "You're one to talk." There's a glass of scotch sitting on his desk.  
He looks at the glass as if he just noticed it, and takes a big swig, as if to prove just how much he really doesn't care.  
She isn't sure what she was planning on doing at this point. Take it back to her room, maybe? Sitting in the dark, getting drunk alone? Which was just, . . . sad. Tony nods to a chair next to him. "You can stay if you want." He says.  
Sitting with a nerd in his lab, getting drunk together? Slightly less sad, she admits to herself, and sits down next to him.  
A few minutes of awkward silence later, she asks him what he's working on.  
"Long range knockout device." He mutters, never looking up. "I'm thinking on using sound, but that would just knock you guys out too. Of course that would be better than, . . . today, but still a bad idea. I'm just working on the mainframe for the divice to fit into the suit, I'll work out what to use later."  
"Why are you down here, anyway? Fury gave us tomorrow off, you could have made it then." She says, even though she kind of already knows his answer.  
"I needed to be doing something." He says, then turns to her for a second. Finally looking up. "How about you?"  
A pause.  
"Couldn't sleep." She takes another swig of vodka.  
Tony doesn't say anything.  
"Could you?" She ask. "Sleep, I mean."  
He shrugs, "Don't know, haven't tried yet."  
Fair enough.  
A few minutes later and Natasha is just drunk enough to ramble.  
"This isn't helping my ledger at all, you know." She says. "Bloodbaths like these, it's like Budapest! I'll never make up for it. It's impossible, nobody can save that many lives. Then again, you would think no one would be able to take that many lives."  
Tony turns to her once again. "So thats what this is about?" He says. "Yes, thats what it's about." She's slurring slightly, and she now has the slight Russian accent that she fought so hard to lose.  
"Why do you think I'm doing this? Out of the goodness of my heart? No. I have to make up for what I've done." Tony takes a second to digest this, and Natasha watches his face carefully. She doesn't see pity, but she didn't expect it. Who pities a contract killer? Maybe it's because she's drunk, maybe it's because it's 3 am, but Natasha can't read his expression at all. And she hates it.  
"Well, why do you fight?" She bites back. "We all know there's no goodness in your heart." That's not true. She knows it's not true. She regrets the words as soon as they come out of her mouth. Tony looks hurt, but responds anyway. "Honestly? I have no idea. I just do. I would say for Pepper, but Pepper doesn't need someone to fight for her, not really. Maybe for the same reason as you." He's not lying, that much she can see. "Please. What have you got to make up for?" Natasha says, feeling insulted. What could he possibly know about debts? "One night stands you never called back?"  
Tony shifts his weight in his chair, and takes a sip of his scotch. He sits the glass on the table with a thud.  
"The Merchant of Death." He says, and thats all it takes for Natasha to realize what he has to make up for. She should have known already. She worked for him, she's read every last bit of his file. Maybe if she wasn't so drunk. . . .  
"Thats what they used to call me. " He contiues. "You should know. I should have known before Afganistan. But I didn't. I was an idiot. It took all that just to make me see."  
He laughs humorlessly. It's the kind of laugh made only to take up the silence. "I've killed more people than you could in your entire lifetime. " Tony says the words slowly, more to himself than to Natasha.  
Well, she doesn't know how to respond to that. Mostly because its true. He killed those people. She breifly considers arguing that it doesn't count. It wasn't him directly. He didn't feel the sting of each kill like she did. And no, he didn't, not at the moment. But he felt the sting later. And he felt them all at once. All that stinging had to hurt pretty bad. She tipped the bottle of vodka back once more.  
"So why do we even bother then?" She asks once she has swallowed, once she has felt the burn as the alcohol slid down her throat.  
"We aren't heroes." Saying it makes her feel just how true it is.  
But Tony doesn't respond right away, thinking. looking into the distance first, then looking directly into her eyes.  
"I think we are." He says, "I mean, we've got to be heroes to someone. Pepper tells me I'm hero all the time. She could be lying of course, but who knows. All that graffiti of us, the toys, the memorials."  
She shakes her head. "I'm nobody's hero." She says with certainty.  
"You saved my life once." He points out.  
"That doesn't make me a hero,"  
The silence that streches out after that is long and heavy. Natasha is too drunk, too tired to think, so she just stares into space. Maybe Tony will think of something that makes her a hero. That would be nice.  
Eventually, Tony does say something, but It's not what she was expecting.  
"You're overthinking it." He says. "Your fighting. And thats what counts. Doesn't matter what you did in the past. Doesn't matter what I did. Because its the past for a reason. You got out of that life, so did I. Maybe neither one of us are heros. Maybe there are no heroes. But we're doing something. And, . . . thats got to count for something."  
Natasha doesn't move. She doesn't want to think. She doesn't want to care. She wants to be emotionless, like everyone says she is.  
"Count for something to who, though?" She says aloud.  
Tony shakes his head. "You're still overthinking it. It doesn't matter. That ledger of yours, or mine for that matter, doesn't matter. What matters is Now. The past was Now once, and the future will be Now someday, and we can worry about it then."  
Natasha very badly wants to ask him when he became a psychologist, but something stops her.  
"So, . . . What do we do with now?" She asks. Tony smiles for the first time all night.  
"Whatever the hell we want to do with it."

"Clint, am I a hero?" She has to ask, she has to know for certain. "Hmm, . . . what?" He mutters, rolling over as her wakes up, untangling himself from the blankets enough to look at her. "Am I a hero?" she repeats.  
His blue eyes focus on her. Eyes that she trusts. Eyes that she has seen into. Eyes that have seen into her. Eyes that she loves.  
"You're my hero." He says. Natasha doesn't care that later, Clint will tease her about the silly smile on her face, she doesn't care that she's gonna have a killer hangover tomarrow, because that is later, and she can worry about that then.  
But right now, she knows what she wants to do with now.  
"You're my hero too, Clint."

And that's got to count for something, right?

* * *

**Did I mention I'm unsure about this? I'm a recovering pyromaniac, so no flames please. **

**~CrAzY**


End file.
